


Dancing in the Stars

by Charity_Angel



Series: Dancing in the Stars [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, M/M, i swear this isnt my fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charity_Angel/pseuds/Charity_Angel
Summary: In which there is a really contrived excuse for Anakin to make an ass of himself, and Rex to be a good ori'vod (and maybe impress a certain other Jedi at the same time).orStrictly has just started, and zinjadu made me do it





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Um... I can't even...
> 
> So, I miiight have a tiny obsession with Rex. He's adorable and badass simultaneously (and I am happily ignoring that he's only thirteen at the time of this story, because otherwise it's creepy and weird).
> 
>  
> 
> The whole idea for the dancing thing comes from zinjadu, and they encouraged me to write this, when it just Would Not Leave my head.
> 
> Enjoy.

Rex already had a low opinion of most politicians, but this? This was just ridiculous.

“But…” Skywalker spluttered at the hologram of the Chancellor, “we’re at war. I don’t exactly have the time to go to a ball.”

“Nonsense, my boy,” the Chancellor said smoothly. Slippery bastard. “I received a report only this morning stating that the Separatists appear to be withdrawing.”

“Regrouping, Chancellor,” Anakin corrected, keeping his voice _just_ this side of polite. “They’re _regrouping_. This is the time we should be strategising, so that they don’t take us by surprise when they’re ready to attack again.”

The Chancellor smiled genially, the hologram flickering slightly. “It’s just one evening, Anakin,” he said. “I would have thought you would be glad of the excuse to return home to Coruscant.”

Skywalker hesitated, and Rex could have a damn good guess at the reason, because he couldn’t admit that he would be _itching_ to get back. Every man who had served in the 501 st for at least one period of down-time on Coruscant knew damn well there was something going on between Skywalker and Senator Amidala. Rex, Fives, and Jesse had reached a point where they would place bets on what ridiculous excuse Skywalker would use when he was inevitably found in her company.

“Of course I am,” Skywalker said finally, his shoulders slumping. “And I’m sure the men will be grateful for some down-time too, but I still think…”

The Chancellor waved away his concerns with one hand. “It will be good for the Senators to see you, my boy; to put a face to the outlandish stories they hear coming from the front. Frankly, it would be good public relations for the Jedi, to be seen as something other than military leaders. There are those in the Senate who fear you are straying from your purpose. Allowing them to see you outside of the military reports can only be a good thing.”

Rex rarely saw his General defeated, but in this, they both knew he had been thoroughly and deftly outmanoeuvred in this instance.

“Very well, Chancellor.”

“Oh, you are of course included in the invitation, Captain Rex.”

That was so unexpected that Rex had to pause for a moment to let his brain figure out that yes, he had just heard that.

“Me, sir?”

“But of course,” the hologram said, that unctuous, oily voice still keeping its pleasant tone. “The Senate know very little about you and your brothers. The only interaction they ever have is with Commander Fox, and he is not the most… personable individual.”

Rex held back a snort of laughter at the Chancellor’s diplomatic phrasing. Fox had little in the way of personality, and what he did have made him an absolute dick.

“I see, sir,” Rex said carefully. “I suppose it can’t hurt, to help them see us as people.”

“Indeed not. You’ll accept, then?”

Oh yes, but only partly for the reason he had given the Chancellor. Mostly, he wanted to see his General make an ass of himself in front of those all-too-polite diplomats and politicians.

Rex smiled. “I don’t see how I could refuse.”


	2. The Graceless Menace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Anakin confesses something, and Rex is highly amused. Then, not so much.

Rex and Skywalker weren’t alone in their invitation, as it turned out. General Kenobi and Cody also had invites to the special event. They too were en route back to Coruscant, and Cody spent a good half-hour on comms grumbling about the fact they were not made to do this kind of thing – they were soldiers, not diplomats.

“You’ve spent nearly three years with Kenobi,” Rex pointed out eventually. “He’s a diplomat.”

“Doesn’t mean I am,” Cody said. “And you realise we’re going to have to be in those stupid uniforms?”

Oh. That was something Rex hadn’t thought about. He had a uniform, sure, but he almost never wore it. Even when he was out of his armour on board the ship, he still wore his blacks, like any brother. It was stiff and scratchy, and he couldn’t move properly in the damn thing, let alone see with that damn cap obscuring his vision.

“Why aren’t you against this, anyway?” Cody asked.

“Skywalker,” he replied simply.

Cody snickered. “Good enough. How much is Fives offering for a vid?”

“He hasn’t, yet,” Rex said, grinning. “But give him time.”

 

.oOo.

 

Skywalker was vibrating with nerves, and Rex had no idea why. There was no Seppie movement, Ahsoka was raising hell with a group of vod’e in the training room and therefore fine, Kenobi was fine and, as far as Rex knew, Amidala was okay too.

“Spill it,” Rex demanded, after dragging his General to the vacant conference room. “What’s eating you?”

“I can’t dance,” the kid mumbled, shame-faced.

“Okay?” Rex prompted, because that didn’t sound like the biggest disaster in the world.

“This stupid ball,” Skywalker went on, obligingly. “I’m going to need to represent the Order, and dance with senators, and I _can’t_. Obi-Wan tried to teach me when I was a padawan, but…” He sighed, frustrated. “I was too impatient.”

Rex chuckled, despite the forlorn look on Skywalker’s face. “That I believe. Can you keep a secret for me, sir?”

Skywalker frowned at him. “Sure…”

Rex smirked at him. “I can dance. I’ll teach you.”

 

.oOo.

 

Rex had discovered dancing while flicking through the HoloNet while laid up and bored. Apparently it was something you could actually earn money from – the show certainly intimated that the ‘professionals’ made their living from dancing. They, and their novice partners, seemed to take great pleasure from what they did, and it had intrigued Rex enough that he had downloaded some instructional holos for himself. It had taken some time to get used to the elegant, intricate steps, but moving to a beat was something Rex was used to doing – he had grown up marching, after all. And it _was_ fun, and a reasonable solo workout to boot. Only occasionally did he feel he was lacking a partner.

He learned, however, that teaching Anakin Skywalker was not fun. Rex was a patient man, but _stars_ , Anakin could test every last nerve occasionally. He had a new appreciation of Kenobi’s vast, multilingual vocabulary. Rex spoke three languages fluently, could curse in two of them, had picked up odd bits of Huttese from Skywalker (all of which were unsuitable for polite conversation), and it _still_ wasn’t enough to express his exasperation.

“You’re a kriffing Jedi, sir,” Rex snapped after three hours. “You’re supposed to be elegant already!”

“I’m more a brute force kind of guy,” Skywalker snapped back, both of them frustrated with the other.

“But you can sneak up on _me_ when you want,” Rex said, baffled. “That takes elegance, to not stomp like you’re a kriffing giant.”

“Oh, that? That’s easy. That’s just Force stuff.”

Rex crossed his arms and stared until his point was made.

Eventually, Skywalker shifted uncomfortably. “You learned that from Obi-Wan, right?”

Rex raised one eyebrow (something he _had_ picked up from Kenobi). “I have over a thousand little brothers under my command, and you think I didn’t learn that until I met _Kenobi_?”

That finally broke the tension, and Skywalker chuckled. “That’s a fair point.”

“I learned it from Cody,” Rex admitted with a wry smile.

Skywalker shook his head. “I now feel really bad for the 212th, if they get that from Obi-Wan _and_ Cody.”

“Come on, sir,” Rex said, chuckling. “You channel all that Force stuff, and let’s try again.”


	3. 'Attack' of the Clone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jesse gets ganged up on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my knowledge of TCW is purely canon - I haven't read any of the Legends material for it. I only have my own headcanons to go on for the clones.

Rex discovered some issues of his own when they finally began to dance together. Given that most of these traditional dances came from human or near-human cultures, and were made for a male/female partnership, Rex had always learned the man’s part of the dance. However, that wasn’t going to work now he was teaching Skywalker, because if he was learning to woo his Senator, he would have to be able to dance opposite her. That meant that Rex was going to have to dance as a woman, to reverse everything in his head and try not to step on his General’s feet. Another issue he had never considered before: he had never actually danced with anyone else, and therefore never worried about anyone’s feet other than his own.

He forgot himself sometimes, even with the reminder of his arms being all wrong, and started off on the wrong foot. It happened a lot less often than Skywalker stumbled, though. The ‘Force stuff’ clearly wasn’t helping all that much – not now he was obviously forgetting to do it.

Rex was very glad that Skywalker had followed his lead and shed his boots when they had begun, because Kix would be spitting feathers about the state of his toes by now otherwise.

“Sorry, sorry,” Skywalker said, springing away as he put his full weight down on Rex’s left foot once again.

“It’s fine, sir,” Rex said, tiredly. They had been at this a long time by now, several hours. “Let’s take a break, maybe grab something to eat.”

Skywalker nodded and grabbed their boots. He handed Rex’s over and slung an arm over the clone’s shoulders as they both walked out and to the mess.

“Thanks for doing this, Rex,” he said. “I really appreciate you trying, at least. You’ve got further than Obi-Wan did.”

“Maybe having an objective is helping you focus,” Rex suggested, trying to keep a straight face as he did so.

“Probably,” he said cheerfully. “I mean, I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of, uh, all those senators.”

“Of course not, sir.”

 

.oOo.

 

The very fact that they entered the mess with their boots in their hands was enough to pique interest. Gossip travelled faster around a ship full of clones than the senate, and they hadn’t even finished their meal by the time Jesse appeared and slid himself down in the seat next to Rex, his arm over Rex’s shoulders much like Skywalker’s had been on their way there, but with much more sinister intent.

“A little mynock tells me you two disappeared for _hours_ ,” he said, grinning, “and then reappeared here, with no boots on. What gives?”

“I’ve been teaching Rex to meditate,” Skywalker said without hesitation. “To combat the stress of dealing with you.”

Rex laughed openly at that. Jesse wasn’t stressful, as such – he was just Jesse. Jesse and Fives together was another matter entirely. But Rex grumbled to Kix whenever they wound him a little too tight, and Kix fed him the fancy Alderaanian whiskey he kept hidden in his desk and told him at least he wasn’t sleeping with one of the infuriating bastards. He had a way of putting things into perspective, did Kix.

Jesse just shook his head sorrowfully. “So rude, vod’ika; so little respect, after all I’ve done for you.”

“You’ll turn me grey before I’m fifteen at this rate,” Rex said to his brother. Hey, if he was going to be accused of being rude, he was going to at least earn said accusation retrospectively.

Jesse eyed him carefully, tilting his head this way and that. “Would anyone be able to tell?” he asked finally. “Your hair’s so pale as it is.”

Rex threw up his hands. “You see what I mean, sir? What I have to put up with?”

Skywalker arranged his expression into something that might have vaguely resembled concern, were it not for the fact that he was very obviously trying hard not to laugh. “I do. It’s a shame it would break Kix’s heart if we transferred Jesse.”

Jesse sighed, sounding very put upon. “It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me. I’m sure I’ll find out somehow.”

He left, still radiating mock-sorrow, and Skywalker allowed himself to chuckle.

“Jesse does have a way of raising the spirits.”

Rex grinned. “He definitely does. He’s good for the soul. Him and Fives, even though they do their best to wind me up.”

“Really? Maybe I should threaten to transfer him a little harder.”

“Nah. I’ve got Kix for that.”

Skywalker winced. “Now I feel bad for the guy.”

Rex laughed. “Kix is never scarier than he has to be.”

Skywalker gave him a deeply sceptical look, which just made him laugh harder. This break from training had been even more relaxing than he could have planned, the Force bless Jesse for his excellent timing.


	4. 'Revenge' of the Padawan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Anakin begins to get the hang of things, Ahsoka puts in an appearance, and Rex gets flattened.

The break, and Jesse’s timely intervention, had been good for Skywalker too, as it turned out. With much clearer heads and good humour, they returned to the conference room, and stepped into hold without hesitation. Rex steered Skywalker around the cleared floor without getting his feet flattened.

It was a few simple waltz steps, but the flush of success relaxed Skywalker even further.

“Why don’t you try leading, sir?” Rex suggested. “Use your posture to tell me where to step.”

A little tension seeped its way back in, stiffening everything up. With that, everything went wrong: the fluidity of movement Skywalker had found seemed to evaporate. His brow creased in concentration.

“You’re thinking too much, sir,” Rex observed. “Just let the music take you, and don’t worry too much about the steps.”

That promptly led to his foot being flattened.

“I don’t get it,” Rex told him as Skywalker stepped back, growling. “You never plan anything in battle – you go, and we follow. This isn’t so different.”

“But I know what I’m doing in battle,” he protested. “It’s nothing like this.”

Rex shook his head. “Listen, I’m going to close my eyes and sit over here for a bit. You are going to listen, and let the music tell you what to do and how to move.”

And he did exactly that; he sat in one of the conference chairs, eyes closed so that Skywalker didn’t feel pressured, or self-conscious about having someone watch him.

It took more bars than Rex was personally comfortable with, but eventually Skywalker started to move. He could hear the soft footfalls on the flooring, mercifully in time with the music if not exactly fluid and certain.

After a couple of minutes, he risked opening his eyes for a moment. Skywalker was holding his frame, and it seemed to be going okay. Rex closed his eyes again and tried not to smile. Damn foolish Jedi, more ill at ease than a six-year-old cadet.

He left him another minute or so before saying: “You okay if I look now?”

“Since you’ve peeked twice so far, I don’t think I can say no.”

“Just the once, sir,” Rex corrected. Skywalker was still moving across the floor reasonably well. “But look at you – you’re fine now. Pretty good, even. May I?”

“Um. I guess I need to get over it before I step on some poor senator’s feet, right?”

Rex was impressed: that was a lot smoother than his usual oblique references to Senator Amidala. Normally he had to catch himself mid-sentence.

“Right.” Rex sprang easily to his feet and settled himself in Skywalker’s arms, which was in no way weird or awkward, at all.

This time was better: Skywalker was less hesitant in his own movements, but somehow he wasn’t guiding Rex. Occasionally there would be a shift in the pressure of the mechanical fingers at his back that would tell Rex to move forwards or backwards, but very little else.

But they persevered, and slowly Skywalker seemed to get it. Slowly, they edged towards truly moving together with something resembling grace and fluidity.

And that was, with the inevitability granted by a galaxy that hated them, the moment it was ruined.

“Not bad, Skyguy.”

Skywalker froze, mid-step, throwing them both off balance as Rex continued. They fell to the floor. Unfortunately for Rex, since he had been on a back-step at the time, he was the one who got flattened by Skywalker. Fortunately, he recovered his wits quickly and extracted himself from the tangle, pushing himself to his feet and holding his hand out for Rex.

Wheezing as he was, Rex wasn’t too proud to take it.

Just when had Ahsoka appeared, anyway? Kid’s lekku were curling up at the ends with mirth, but her face looked appropriately concerned as she turned to Rex.

“You okay, Rexter?”

“Fine,” he said, trying not to cough. “Just winded.”

“Ahsoka, what are you doing here?”

She slouched back against the wall (her starting position, before Rex had been flattened) and grinned, exposing her sharp teeth.

“Jesse said you guys were up to something. Said he’d owe me if I found out what it was.”

Rex felt a trickle of something cold run down his spine.

“You _can’t_ tell him!”

That was Skywalker, but Rex agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment. This was something he was sure his brothers wouldn’t understand.

She snorted. “The deal was that I find out. No-one ever specified that I had to _tell_ him.”

(Rex felt sure that Fives would approve of that interpretation, and laugh at Jesse for not anticipating it.)

“And it’s a good thing I’m here, because it looks like you two need a hand. Or a woman, at least.”

He hadn’t even considered that Ahsoka might be able to dance, that she might even have been a willing partner.

Skywalker had that look, the one where he was completely wrong-footed and trying to get back on the right mental track.

Ahsoka shook her head. “You know, Anakin, sometimes it really shows that you missed the Initiate training. Every Initiate learns to dance, for those diplomatic missions that we’re supposed to do as Padawans. Or for things like this stupid ball we’ve got to go to.”

“We?” Skywalker echoed. “You too?”

She shrugged. “Got a text invite from the Chancellor himself this morning. He says he meant to tell you, but it slipped his mind while you were arguing with him.”

Rex doubted that – as slippery as that man was, he didn’t think he did anything without purpose. In this case, the purpose clearly was that by inviting Commander Tano, Skywalker wouldn’t be able to find some last-minute excuse to not attend. He was kind of impressed at how well the Chancellor knew his General.

“Rex, shall we show my master how it’s done? Since you were the one dancing backwards, I assume it was you teaching him?”

The kid was becoming extremely observant, now she was over the need to prove herself. Rex nodded and held out his hand. She took it gracefully and spun into his arms. As he rested his hand on her back, his fingertips grazed against her lek, and he froze.

“It’s fine,” she said with a gentle smile. “It happens when we’re doing these dances designed for humans. Let’s just be grateful I’m young, and they’re not down to my waist yet.”

Rex couldn’t help but smile at that, and he swept her away. He started off simple, but as it became apparent that Ahsoka really could dance, he stepped up the difficulty, allowing himself to truly enjoy this while he could. With a partner, he even tried something he had never been able to do on his own, and turned them into a fleckle.

“Show off,” Ahsoka muttered as they resumed normal steps, sounding highly amused, and then turned them in the opposite direction.


	5. New Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things become a little easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for being useless and absent for a little while. I couldn't finish off the year without having done some more of this.
> 
> I hope you have had an excellent holiday of your particular persuasion, and that 2017 is decidedly more excellent than 2016.
> 
> (Also, not seen Rogue One yet... Have avoided everything so far - I have ABSOLUTELY no idea about anything. Please don't spoiler me.)

Ahsoka’s presence spurred Skywalker on. Having watched them dance properly, he was more determined than ever to master this new skill.

He danced with Ahsoka, which made it a lot easier for Rex to see exactly what was going on. Maybe it was the lack of desire to injure his padawan, but things seemed to be better. And Ahsoka looked like she was enjoying herself too, although Rex suspected that was because for once she was teaching Skywalker something.

By the end of the day, Skywalker’s waltz was passable: his steps were sure if not elegant or competition-standard, and he at least moved in time with the music without stepping on Ahsoka’s feet. Deciding that other forms of dance could wait until at least tomorrow, Rex kicked them out. They headed to the rec room, and Rex followed: he could use a sparring session with whichever of his brothers happened to be available. If that brother happened to be Jesse, or Fives, well, that would just be so much more satisfying. And fortunately, Jesse obliged him cheerfully.

It meant he was in the perfect position to watch when Ahsoka sauntered in and announced that of course she had managed to find out _exactly_ what her master and Rex had been up to (Rex confirmed that this was in fact true, and managed to look disgruntled at the fact), and no, she was not going to tell him – he never said that she had to.

Jesse was lost for words: Fives needed none to laugh at their older brother. He draped himself over Ahsoka’s shoulders, still giggling as he congratulated her on her deviousness, and would she whisper the secret in his ear?

Ahsoka smiled that slightly terrifying smile – the one that showed off all her teeth and reminded them she was carnivorous – and Fives backed off, still grinning.

.oOo.

To their astonishment, Skywalker picked up the foxtrot quickly, and was dancing Ahsoka across the floor with reasonable confidence before midday. In celebration, he and Ahsoka conspired to teach him the Alderaani waltz in the afternoon. Rex had always struggled to learn it alone – all that turning was kind of tricky on your own. They sent Skywalker away for a while so they could practice it themselves.

That was a revelation – Rex was grateful for his strong constitution as his stomach rebelled. He worried how Skywalker would feel about doing this, although normal humans clearly managed, because he had seen them performing it on dance shows on the Net. It was _Alderaani_ – humans had _created_ it! Rex then had a momentary distraction, wondering whether or not the Alderaani senator could dance, and whether it would be acceptable to dance with another man at the ball.

Ahsoka laughed at him, and he was glad that she clearly seemed to be taking his distraction for dizziness (which was not entirely inaccurate, if he was honest). He had never envied Togruta hearing and her lack of an inner ear more. (But how did she balance? He was going to have to ask Kix later, because it was going to annoy him otherwise.)

By the time Rex conquered his issues with the constant rotation, Ahsoka was pleased with their ability to show it off to Anakin and get him to try. Rex privately thought it likely that she just wanted to see whether or not he would vomit. To Rex’s utter chagrin, Skywalker took to it just fine. He realised somewhat belatedly that his general was a pilot and, like all of Rex’s insane pilot brothers, seemed to have no sense of vertigo whatsoever. It just wasn’t fair.

Quickstep was another matter – Ahsoka said they probably wouldn’t need it, but there was a possibility that it might come up. That could be built upon existing steps, since she assured them both that even if they were required to dance a quickstep, they weren’t going to have to do anything too complicated. Skywalker, having paled upon watching a couple of dances on HoloTube, looked distinctly relieved by that news.

Tango was fun again, and they took a whole day for that – not only did they have the time to spare for this one last discipline, but they needed it for Anakin to learn an entirely different way of moving across the floor.

It was fairly disastrous to begin with, as he tried to un-learn the last three days’ worth of lessons and suddenly start doing things completely differently, and Rex worried that Anakin’s earlier lack of confidence was going to rear its ugly head once more. However, his determination won out and, with encouragement from both Rex and Ahsoka that he had managed to pick up everything so far, they made slow but certain progress. By mid-afternoon, the biggest problem was when Ahsoka turned her head too sharply and smacked Skywalker with her left lek. Had she been taller, it might have been more of an issue than it was – as it was, it impacted his chest and did more damage to her than him.

“Well, that’ll teach me not to do that,” she chuckled weakly as she rubbed her injured lek.

“You’ve got to be more careful, Snips,” Skywalker said. It could have sounded harsh but for the worried note (and the fact that he was shedding his armour as he spoke, looking embarrassed that he was even wearing it).

“They’re just sensitive right now,” she grumbled. “It’s not like I went and got one cut _off_ ,” She very pointedly looked at his right arm.

Rex decided to weigh in before they got into an entirely unproductive argument, but he wasn’t sure whether or not the question he wanted to ask was rude or not. Ahsoka clearly caught the gist of his thoughts from his eyes, because she answered him anyway:

“It’s because I’m going through a growth spurt,” she said with a wry smile. “My bones ache, my lekku are sensitive, and my montrals _itch_. Being a teenager sucks.”

Rex chuckled as he slid to the floor beside her. “I wouldn’t know,” he confided, “since I’m twelve. But, if it’s anything like being seven was, I know what you mean. At least you don’t have to worry about your voice breaking. You… you don’t, do you?”

She giggled, which was much better than glowering at Skywalker because he was being over-protective. “No – that’s a male thing. Human girls’ voices change a bit, but Togruta don’t much. I’ll still sound like me when I’m taller than you.”

That startled him. “Really?”

Skywalker chuckled. “She could end up being taller than me,” he admitted, before adding: “if you count montrals.”

“And just why wouldn’t you count montrals?” Ahsoka demanded.

Skywalker grinned infuriatingly. “If your eyes aren’t level with mine, Snips, it doesn’t count.”

She smiled sweetly; that predator smile that made Rex want to back away. “But if I can stab your eyes out with my montrals, they totally count.”

Rex sighed. At least they were bickering rather than actual arguing and, given the fits of temper he recalled from his eighth year, perhaps that was for the best. He made a mental note to ask Kix about Togruta puberty, and what they should be expecting.

But that was a worry for another day. For now, maybe, just maybe, none of them were going to make fools of themselves at this stupid ball.


	6. The Senate Ball Strikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the ball begins and Senator Amidala is observant.

Rex sighed heavily as he adjusted his collar once again and tried not to look too uncomfortable as he left the 501st’s barracks. Outside, he met Cody, who was eyeing a sleek speeder at the edge of the compound and looking as disgruntled as Rex felt at having to wear the uniform.

“This is such a stupid idea,” Cody said by way of greeting. “A Senate ball… Look at us both.”

While Rex agreed in principle about hating his uniform, he couldn’t help but admit that he and Cody looked fairly smart in the tailored clothing. Once they shed the ridiculous caps, they would look an awful lot less out of place in the Senate than they would in their armour.

“Might be kind of fun,” he said softly, trying to placate his older brother as they headed towards the waiting vehicle. “To see how high society lives. And, don’t forget, we’re trying to make them like us: these people are the ones who decide what happens to us after the war.”

Cody rolled his eyes and got into the back of the speeder. He might not be particularly verbose, but Cody did know exactly how to make his point without them.

 

.oOo.

 

Rex wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected to find. He knew that he and Cody were invited in order to be the faces of the clone army, to help the senators see them as individuals, as _people_ , but…

Being paraded around the room and shown off to the attending senators like a prize bantha was _not_ what he had anticipated. Neither was the fact that most of them seemed to be complete imbeciles, only interested in the sound of their own voices.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found himself being introduced to Senator Amidala, who smiled graciously at Senator Christo and promptly excused them. She took Rex’s elbow and led him smoothly away from the throng of politicians, towards an unoccupied corner of the reception room.

“You look like you need a break,” she said as they walked; her face was the image of youthful enthusiasm even as her words were soft and considerate.

Rex stomped firmly on the urge to kiss her for that moment of thoughtfulness, and for her subterfuge.

“I do,” he admitted. “I… I’m not made for this kind of thing.”

She gave him a wry smile. “I think this is going much better than it would be if some of your brothers were here in your place. Could you imagine what Commander Wolffe would make of this?”

They reached the corner, and Rex allowed himself to lean against the wall as he chuckled. “He’d have strangled someone already,” he admitted cheerfully. “That, or he would have glowered at anyone who approached him.”

Amidala laughed; not the silly, false laugh that the other politicians had been using, but real laughter. “Well, that would certainly frighten off most people. Some of my fellow senators are made of sterner stuff, but not many.

“I can see that you are well, but how are the rest of your men?”

She was the first to ask, and wasn’t that a damning indictment of the gathering? Senator Christo had asked him about their recent assignments, but not the men themselves.

“A few injuries from the last campaign, but for the most part they’re enjoying their leave,” he told her. “I’m sure Jesse and Fives have already found the most disreputable card game being played on Coruscant tonight.”

“And I have no doubt that Kix took some time to roll his eyes at the pair of them before returning to his patients.” She sighed, and added: “I wish I could get away with completely monopolising you, but I’m afraid I’ll have to throw you back to the wolves.”

Rex nodded his understanding. “Thank you for giving me this much time away,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

A smile touched her eyes as she looked up at him. “I’m sure Cody will appreciate it too, when I manage to pull him aside. Now, let me introduce you to Senator Chuchi: she’s a friend of mine and Ahsoka’s. She’ll give you some sensible conversation for a while, and it’ll remind Ahsoka that she has to circulate too.”

 

.oOo.

 

The meal was… ridiculous. There was no other word for it. The army ate well on Coruscant and aboard ship – fighting men with enhanced metabolisms march on their stomachs, after all – but Rex knew damn well that there were worlds out there where people were starving because the war had hit them too hard. Rex and his men had given their own food to starving citizens more than once, and yet here there was too much, and it was far too elaborate and extravagant. It was all absurdly rich, and lacking in the basics of nutrition that active people needed to fuel their bodies. It was little wonder that politicians were either stick-thin or Hutt-like.

And the fizzy wine made his nose burn. He was fairly sure that wasn’t supposed to happen. And it tasted odd – a lot sharper than he was expecting, without the lingering sweetness that came from whiskey or brandy. Ahsoka had taken one sip, pulled a face, and left it otherwise untouched. That hadn’t gone unnoticed, but the senators around them had smiled indulgently and put it down to her young age.

(Rex knew better – Ahsoka didn’t mind the right kind of alcohol, and could put up with most things for the sake of appearances. This was just horrible.)

It was a relief once the final plates were taken away and the music started. With Ahsoka’s warnings ringing in his ears (“Ask Padmé for the first dance; stop Anakin from making an ass of himself by being too obvious.”), Rex swiftly located Senator Amidala and asked her for the honour.

She looked surprised – possibly more by his polite request than anything else – and accepted. She took his outstretched hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. She gave a slight gasp as he spun her into his arms.

“Rex?”

He took the lead confidently, beginning a smooth waltz, and she gave a delighted laugh.

“You are certainly full of surprises, Captain. I didn’t expect you to dance at all.”

“It’s not a talent I advertise,” he admitted.

“Hmm. Jesse and Fives, I imagine.”

Rex sighed. “I would never hear the end of it.”

As they danced, Rex managed to spot his friends around the floor. Kenobi and Senator Mothma seemed to be engaged in an actual discussion as they moved effortlessly, as if they had been dancing together for some time; Ahsoka had been propositioned by Senator Organa and they looked to be a matched pair, both in deep blues that brought out their warm skin tones. He saw Cody hesitantly approach Riyo Chuchi, who accepted readily, and Skywalker, body language radiating betrayal and jealousy to anyone who knew him, was cornered by Senator Alavar, another of Padmé’s political allies.

Cody and Anakin were both hesitant as they took to the floor, although Cody had definitely been shown the steps. That had to be down to Kenobi, and Rex felt a flare of jealousy at the thought of his brother so close to the Jedi.

As the music drew to a close, Padmé curtseyed and kissed his cheek.

“That is a talent that should be nurtured,” she told him. “I hope I get to dance with you again.”

“I hope so too,” he said, and meant it. No matter how much Skywalker would take offence, his Senator was a beautiful, graceful dancer and Rex would relish the opportunity to see if she could do more than the polite setting allowed of them.

“It may interest you to know that, once the evening drags on and the alcohol is flowing, same-sex partnerships become more acceptable,” she said softly, with a wicked gleam in her eye as she glanced over at where Kenobi had collared Skywalker, and was speaking to him quietly. Skywalker’s eyes flickered over to them as Rex was looking, comprehension dawning. It was clear to Rex, though, that it wasn’t her lover she was referring to.

“My lady, I…”

“Rex, you have precious little as it is; don’t deny yourself what you _can_ have. Even if it is only one dance.” She inclined her head to him and turned away, heading towards Senator Mothma and Senator Organa.


	7. Return to the Jedi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the ball continues.

The Chancellor took advantage of Senator Amidala’s departure in order to impose his company on Rex.

“My goodness, Captain: I have to say that when I extended the invitation, I didn’t actually expect you to dance. Especially not so well.”

Rex considered his answer carefully. “Thank you, my lord. I wouldn’t want to let my brothers down.”

The Chancellor regarded him with polite curiously. “Indeed not. And yet I feel that Commander Cody is more representative of your brothers in this respect.”

Cody had danced. Not well, but he had not embarrassed himself either.

“We all have our talents, my lord,” Rex replied. “And our hobbies. Cody might not be a dancer, but you he has an ear for codes that I’ve only seen beaten a few times among our brothers, and he is _the_ best tactician I have ever met.”

“I see. It seems this is all working out well – the two of you are certainly different enough that it will make people think again about their perceptions. But, indulge me my curiosity, Captain, if you would – is your hair natural?”

Rex suppressed a sigh: it wasn’t the first time he had been asked that very question that evening. How much time did these people think he had on his hands, to be able to bleach his hair that regularly? “Yes, my lord. You have no idea how much scrutiny I was under as a child because of it. I’m not the only one of my brothers with blond hair, but I’m the oldest. I have some brothers who have brown hair too, but they’re much more common. I’ve even got a man in Tango Company with blue eyes, and he went white on top when he was five.”

“How very interesting.” The words were polite, unctuous, and more than likely completely insincere. “Thank you, Captain.”

Rex watched him as he headed over to Skywalker and Kenobi, and tried hard to shake the feeling he got whenever Palpatine was around, like something was crawling under his skin.

 

.oOo.

 

As he danced, or during the time between dances, he occasionally caught sight of one of his companions. Kenobi was working the room like the diplomat he was; talking to senators easily, with that bland expression he so often wore when faced with people he had to be polite to. Ahsoka danced with many men, and he caught her sternly removing Senator Taa’s hand from her backside. She saw that he had noticed and twitched her lekku in negation: she didn’t need help. Rex personally thought that the corpulent Twi’lek was lucky to still have his hand after a move like that.

He noticed Ahsoka intercepting Skywalker more than once in an attempt to make a fool of himself with Senator Amidala.

Cody was trickier to keep an eye on since he wasn’t on the dance floor very often. Instead, he spoke to those who weren’t dancing, presumably about similar topics to Rex (what their lives were like, did they have any hobbies, were they allowed to date, did they prefer men or women?). Rex felt bad for his brother – at least he had the dancing to help pass the evening. Even if some of the women were just as free with their hands as Orn Free Taa. (He took his cue from Ahsoka and removed wandering limbs politely but firmly.)

Although he understood that ‘the done thing’ in high society was for a man to ask a lady to dance, Rex found himself propositioned by several women over the course of the evening, and he turned none of them down out of a sense of duty. He managed to chat politely to them all, although occasionally he had to force his jaw muscles to clamp shut instead of saying what he wished to certain, ill-thought, comments.

“It seems we might make a diplomat of you yet,” Kenobi observed, highly amused, as Rex slipped away from Senator Dreekech. The new Rodian senator wasn’t a bit like her predecessor at all in her views on the army, and had been quite outspoken in the past in her views about clones. But she seemed to have changed her tune somewhat as he had spoken to her during their dance, as she had asked questions about him and his brothers. Rex had answered her honestly, making sure to highlight their differences (although he had glossed over facts such as Kix and Jesse’s relationship).

It was difficult to tell, but he thought that he might have made a difference. And that could only be a good thing, but doing this all the time?

“No,” he said bluntly. “This… this isn’t me at _all_.”

“And yet you are managing very well,” Kenobi commented, “and impressing _everyone_. Ahsoka tells me you are responsible for the minor miracle: Anakin has yet to flatten anyone’s toes, even if he does move with the grace of a wounded eopie.”

Rex glanced over to his general, who was in the process of collaring Senator Amidala at last. He had no subtlety at all, that one. Rex knew vod’e straight off Kamino who had more refinement.

“She’s selling herself short,” he replied. “It was a team effort. And he can actually dance well when he thinks no-one is watching him.”

“Well, it’s something I could not teach him in ten years’ of apprenticeship,” Kenobi said with a self-depreciating smile. “My congratulations.”

In the corner of his eye, Rex noticed that Ahsoka had found herself a partner in Riyo Chuchi, and he decided that the time had come to seize the moment. His mouth was dry as he asked:

“Sir? Might I have this dance?”

Kenobi’s response was a diplomatic smile, and an inclination of his head before he took Rex’s hand. But his eyes shone brightly, warmth softening their corners.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured as the music started.


	8. The Dancers Awaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the title is fairly self-explanatory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clones, thus Mando'a happened. Translations are hoverable if you can hover, and in the end notes if you can't.
> 
> I really hope this works, because my WiFi has stopped working, so I've had to Bluetooth the damn file to my phone...

It amused Padmé that her husband slept like the dead when he was in her bed. She knew it was because it was the only place he felt safe and secure, and he would only be woken by his comm, or if the Force alerted him to any danger. Her stirring didn’t bother him in the slightest.

As she rose and began to brush out her hair, her mind turned to the previous evening. She had been pleasantly surprised by how the Jedi and their men had comported themselves: a Senate function was certainly not the natural habitat of a clone soldier, nor Anakin or Ahsoka’s. Obi-Wan, she had expected to manage, but the others had little patience for that kind of nonsense.

What she had been most surprised by was that Anakin had danced. He wasn’t as proficient as most Jedi, but anything was a vast improvement. He hadn’t even danced at their wedding! She had forced him to confess once they had arrived home, and discovered the truth: that he had confessed his failing to Rex, and he had taken it upon himself to teach his general.

Padmé was certain that Anakin wouldn’t have told Rex the precise reason that he had wanted this – to be able to have his first dance with his wife – but it had been plainly obvious to her that everyone was aware of the existence of a relationship, and were helping to conceal it. Anakin was not a subtle man, and it sometimes frustrated her that he was so obvious in his affection for her. (Not that she objected to the affection, of course: just Anakin’s overly-enthusiastic expression of it at inappropriate times.) Padmé already held a great deal of affection for Anakin’s aliit , but seeing how they all worked to keep hers and Anakin’s secret had secured their places in her heart.

She just wondered when _he_ would realise what they had done for him.

His hands swept over her shoulders gently. She hadn’t heard him rise, or pad across the thick carpet, but that wasn’t unusual. Nor was this part of their morning routine, and Padmé adored it. She looked forward to being able to have this every day, once the war was over, once the vod'e were safe, once Ahsoka’s apprenticeship was over.

The cooler tips of his right fingers brushed her hand, and she relinquished the hairbrush readily. His left hand – the one that was warm and alive and he could feel, ran through her hair as he pulled the brush through, untangling and smoothing with practiced strokes.

“I had a wonderful time last night,” she said.

“Before or after we got home?” he asked, his voice warm and full of promise.

Ah, the male ego: such a fragile thing, and Anakin’s particularly so. She decided not to tease him as she might otherwise have done.

“Both, actually. It was lovely to dance with you at last.”

“Even though I was terrible?” His voice was laced with self-depreciation, the shadow of that ego haunting him. The brush faltered in its otherwise steady rhythm

“You did just fine, Ani,” she assured him. “You might not be up to Rex’s standard, but most of the senators weren’t either. You danced better than some of my colleagues, and even if you hadn’t, it was still _you_.”

“It was nice, wasn’t it?” he admitted. “Even though it took so long to actually get near you. It felt like a conspi…”

Ah, there it was: the moment of realisation. The brush stopped, and Anakin spoke in Huttese for so long that Padmé turned around, concerned. The shock would be comical if he weren’t still spluttering in his native tongue.

“Ani?”

“They… They _all_ know? They were…”

“They were protecting us, from what I could tell,” she said gently, reaching for his hands. “Your vod'e, your aliit, looked out for you.”

“But…”

“Ani, darling, I get the impression that it wasn’t exactly a revelation to them. They have kept our secret for some time.”

He sat down heavily on the bed as it sank in.

“I… We really don’t have to hide from them?”

There was so much hope in his voice: she knew that all he wanted to do was proclaim their love from the rooftops. That was still a bad idea, but for this group?

“No, we don’t. I can finally agree with Ahsoka about your snoring.”

He spluttered indignantly. “I don’t snore!”

She gave him a little smile and patted his knee. “No, of course you don’t, my love.”

Anakin took that in the spirit she had intended – that she had meant the exact opposite. “I don’t. Wait, did I see _Rex_ dance with _Obi-Wan_?”

 

.oOo.

 

Cody had expected to be mobbed by his men about where he and Rex had been the previous evening, and he had told them everything he had felt he could share, including his exact thoughts about the Senate in general and how he now understood why nothing ever seemed to get done.

What he had not expected was to see Rex also present in the commissary, being quizzed by his own men. Unless Rex had sneaked in very early in the morning, things hadn’t quite gone as Cody had anticipated. He had expected his friend to be at the Temple right now, in his general’s bed.

“Oh, I get it,” Fives said, his voice carrying easily. “All that time you were all locked away in the conference room: you were learning to dance.”

Cody had held his tongue about Rex’s particular talent during his recollections to his men, and he had no intention of giving the game away now.

“You got to learn in private?” he asked, keeping his voice sounding as long-suffering as possible. “I had to use the gymnasium, where everyone could see.”

“But,” Kix asked, turning on his bench so that he was addressing the question to both Rex and Cody, “did it actually go well? Did you manage to persuade the senators we’re not all sheb’palone like Fox?”

Cody glanced at Rex, who gave a minute shrug. Cody knew his vod well; knew that was him being pessimistic rather than not knowing.

“I think so,” he answered for both of them. “We’re different enough that they started talking to us like we’re individuals.”

“How many people asked about Rex’s hair?” Jesse asked, grinning.

He saw Rex roll his eyes. Obviously a fair number, in addition to those who had asked Cody.

“Quite a few.”

“How many did you tell that he’s just a freak?”

“None,” Cody said, frowning. But Rex just sighed, and Kix hit Jesse around the back of the head. Clearly he was missing some in-joke.

“Just the Chancellor,” Rex added. “Can I eat now? I’m _starving_.”

Cody appreciated the sentiment wholeheartedly: the food had been terrible. The inquisition broke up and all around them, vod'e ate and talked cheerfully. There was mention of the ball, and Jesse promising to scour the Net for holos, but in general, life was returning to normal.

Maybe they had made a difference to the Senate’s view on clones, and maybe they hadn’t. But last night, something had changed between Rex and General Kenobi. Cody didn’t care particularly, as long as they kept it professional in the field: he just needed to know, just in case. Things like that could affect a be’vod ability to be objective if one was captured, injured or, Force forbid it, killed.

Maybe being happy would make them be more careful? Force knew they deserved it.

 

.oOo.

 

Obi-Wan awoke with a groan. There were some things in his life that he regretted: leaving things the way they had was one of them.

He and Rex had gone out onto a balcony, away from the hubbub, and discussed things like rational adults. They had both admitted that they would very much like to end the evening at the Temple, in Obi-Wan’s bed. But it felt too rushed, too sordid, too unprofessional. Rex might not be one of Obi-Wan’s officers, but with Obi-Wan being a councillor, and Anakin’s master, there were chain of command issues that neither of them were comfortable with.

They had each been darkly amused that they had the same misgivings. And the issue of feeling ‘rushed’ was, they both admitted, patently ridiculous. They had known each other for years, respected each other, become friends even. And they both knew that they could go into battle tomorrow and not come back out.

What if that had been their one chance, and they had missed it? Had he missed his single opportunity to worship Rex the way he deserved? Because what? He was worried about how it would look to others?

The Jedi weren’t necessarily celibate, no matter what others believed. Most practiced it, but some didn’t. Qui-Gon had been the one to explain that particular concept to Obi-Wan, once he was old enough to understand (once Qui-Gon could do it without falling to pieces thinking about Tahl). He had done it mostly via the medium of throwing him at Satine and giving them the privacy to explore their connection.

Obi-Wan was an _idiot_. Rex had kissed him, surprisingly gently but with all the quiet purpose he brought to everything he did, and Obi-Wan had still walked away and returned to his empty, lonely quarters (Ahsoka hadn’t left by the time he did, although Anakin was long gone).

He had to rectify it: he had to give Rex everything he could, while he could. Rex deserved nothing less.

Wait, where _was_ Ahsoka? She wasn’t in her room, and Obi-Wan didn’t remember hearing or feeling her come in at all.

Oh, just _wonderful_. Qui-Gon would be so proud: three generations had followed his footsteps when it came to Attachment. Hopefully she would be more subtle about it than Anakin.

 

.oOo.

 

Ahsoka had discovered that not only was it acceptable for same-sex couples to dance after a certain point in the evening, but that a lot of the senators left not long after that time. The older ones cleared out and made way for the youngsters to let loose.

Once the formality of the event started to break down, it also became okay to dance with more than one person simultaneously. Ahsoka had found herself rounding off the evening dancing with both Riyo and Lux. The band had upped the tempo, and they could move and laugh together, just enjoying the music and the company.

The three of them had traipsed back to Riyo’s rooms, giggling, and talked most of the night away (with some much more palatable alcohol flowing freely). When Lux had yawned and excused himself, Riyo had shyly asked Ahsoka, since it was so very late, would she like to stay and return to the Temple in the morning?

Since her master was no doubt in Padmé’s rooms and therefore not exactly waiting up for her, Ahsoka had accepted readily.

She awoke curled around Riyo, and basked in the warmth emanating from her friend, and the feelings of trust and security and contentment that were leeching into the Force. If this is what Anakin felt whenever he was with Padmé, it was little wonder he took every opportunity he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aliit = family (not necessarily blood relations)  
> Vod/Vod'e = brother(s) (again, not necessarily blood relations)  
> Sheb'palone = assholes  
> Be'vod = brother's 
> 
>  
> 
> There might be one further epilogue. Because I got an idea from a comment. I'm not making that official yet.


	9. Epilogue: I can't make a clever pun on Rogue One. I just can't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cody gets a somewhat fluffier ending.

Cody stepped into the office he and Rex shared while they were planetside, and let out the sigh he had been holding in all day. Damn Jesse anyway, and whichever idiot had recorded some of the dancing. And particularly damn the whole romantic lot of his vod’e for scouring the footage and picking up every moment where the camera had caught Skywalker mooning over Amidala, or Tano and Chuchi standing a little too close, or…

“Rex and _Kenobi_? Huh.”

Never mind that Rex had danced with just about every willing senator (because they had been pretty much lining up to dance with his brother when they saw his talent), with both Tano and Skywalker, and even with Cody himself, no, it was the one time he danced with Kenobi that they picked up on.

The universe _hated_ him. It was now official. Kenobi had once commented that the Jedi were terrible gossips, but Cody thought that the  vod’e could rival them. This little titbit would feed the rumour mill for days; they would attempt to pump Cody for information, as an actual eye-witness, and then read far too much into what he didn’t say.

Rex and their general were both private people, and they didn’t deserve the kind of scrutiny this would bring. Cody would do his absolute damndest to protect them.

The door opened behind him and Cody whirled around to face the intruder. It was Boil, still on the other side and looking awkward.

“I, uh…” Boil cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he stepped through the door and wrapped his arms around Cody.

“Waxer won’t forgive me if I leave you like this while he’s marching ahead,” he explained.

Cody smiled and relaxed into his brother’s embrace. He curled his arms around his vod, returning the hug. After a minute, he felt Boil’s posture change, his spine losing some of its rigidity.

Even before they left Kamino, Waxer had taken it upon himself to make sure that Cody got a requisite amount of human contact, and to be there whenever he needed someone. Boil, their resident grouch, had rolled his eyes and grumbled and participated anyway. Cheerful, outgoing Waxer had understood both of them, reticent in their own ways, and taken care of the pair of them.

Boil was right: they still needed to look after each other, now more than ever. Boil needed this just as much as Cody did.

One of the best thing about Boil? He _got_ that Cody didn’t need anything more. He knew just how far to go. He patted Cody’s back.

“See you later, Commander.”

Cody smiled as Boil stepped away. “Vor entye, vod.”

And with that, Boil left the room, along with Cody’s stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may or may not be directly related to a comment zinjadu made on the previous chapter. Which was absolutely, definitely supposed to be the last one.
> 
> There is also a smutty (and in-progress) epilogue. Follow the arrows to the next installment of the series if that's your thing.


End file.
